


Drops of Jupiter

by Ulawan5



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Asexual Character, Asexual Karkat, Collegestuck, F/M, Humanstuck, Immune Deficient Karkat, It's a community college though it won't be talked about much it's not the point here, Narcoleptic Jade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulawan5/pseuds/Ulawan5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boy who's been sick all his life finds the wonders of the universe through the telescope.<br/>He only found out how wonderful it was through the girl whose head is always up in space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mice on Venus

You glance at your watch, and find you have seconds to spare.  
You’re not entirely sure sitting in on an Astronomy class was the best idea, or even allowed by the school. But hey, what better way to do research for your project than to learn in person? Creative writing research is not always this faithful.  
Sneaking in the door wasn’t hard, a many students were also nearly late, so you blend into the crowds, and attempt to find an inconspicuous place to sit. Settling on someplace in the mid-back to the classroom, you take out your notebook and begin taking notes already, on the types of students, the things on the walls of the planetarium hall, etcetera. There’s a girl two seats to your left, already asleep in her seat. The rest of the classroom is scattered with students chattering while the professor arranges his things.  
The girl picks her head up with a start as he calls the class’s attention. She is fully attentive in a snap, and you jot down more notes.  
“Good morning, now let’s jump right in and get back to what we were discussing last week, the Horsehead Nebula. As you know from reading your textbooks-”  
The girl is fumbling with her own notebook, and starts scribbling with a fuzzy pen. You haven’t seen one of those since middle school, you think to yourself.  
She glances at the board, and only then does she turn her head and notice you. And before you can manage to get a word out she starts whispering in an almost conspicuous manner.  
“Oh! You must have just transferred, do you need the notes from last time? There’s a quiz next time, if you’ve read the syllabus, and-”  
“Whoa whoa slow down, I’m not actually in this class, don’t let me distract you. I’m here for a writing thing.”  
“You’re a writer? Oh that's neat, you’ll have to tell me all about it after class!” She turns back to notes rapidly and resumes writing hurriedly as the teacher is talking.  
You’re left staring briefly from the suddenness of it all. Then you remember that you’re supposed to be taking notes as well, and begin scratching out words.  
\- - -

The unanimous zipping of backpacks signals you that class is ending. As much as you enjoyed hearing about the endless depressing void of space and the tiny fraction that we have explored in our entire existence, you're glad it's finally over. It takes a second to register again that you're not even supposed to be there. You sling your bag over your shoulder and quickly set for the door amongst the exiting stream of students.  
Someone collides with your back as soon as you get out the door, and you turn around to curse them out of their skin- before you realize it's the girl.  
"Oh hey! So, are you free? I wanna know about your writing and stuff! I don't have another class for three hours, so uh, " she holds a hand out, her nails are glittery, "sorry, I didn't introduce myself, my name is Jade."  
You slowly oblige and return the handshake, "Karkat," you say, "yeah I don't have classes today. I was just going to go back home."  
Her face sinks. "Oh, well, I guess I'll let you go then."  
You hesitate.  
...It’s not like it could do any harm to talk to her, right?  
She’d already begun walking away, a twinge of a slump to her shoulders and a put-on seriousness about her.  
“Hey! Jade!”  
She whirls to face you, smile returning quickly. “Yeah?”  
You walk a little bit closer, “I think I’ve got some time before I have to catch the bus,” and your smile matches hers.


	2. Kepler 22b

 “Sci-fi romance is a genre?”  
 “Character driven Sci-fi is a hard find often times. I’m trying to make it into one.” 

 “Are you uh, cool with maybe showing me some?”

 “Uhh, I don’t really have anything on me. I mean there’s scraps, but not a whole lot.”

 “Oh, that’s cool too.” She pauses,  “So crashing astronomy class was your way of doing research?”

 “There’s only so much you can find out from the Nasa website. They’re public and all, but the internet is different from looking at a planetarium.”

 “It’s a shame he didn’t turn the projector on today, I think he will next Monday though.”

 “I dunno about crashing it a second time, it took a lot to try this once. You sure it would be okay?”

 “That’s true… Well maybe you could just look at my notes? would that"

 "Probably, actually. Are you sure you take...all of the notes?"

 She cocks her head, "whaddaya mean?"

 "Well you were asleep before class, it made me worried during it that you might have been asleep then too."

 "Ohhhhhh that, um! It's no big deal, I always catch up and compare with friends' after class. They're comprehensive, promise!"

 "Oh...kay?"

 You look down at your notebooks, and catch a glimpse of your watch. It announces 2:20, and your heart drops to your stomach.

 "Oh shit," you scramble to your feet, righting your bag. "I have to catch the bus, uh," you fumble with an outside pocket on your bag and present a business card to Jade, "here, so we can keep in touch, talk to you later!"

 She takes it, and only when she notices you running does she stop reading to yell her chipper goodbye after you.

\- - -

 After wrestling with the bus pass scanner, you sink into a far back seat and catch your breath.

 You had not been expecting to actually meet someone today. And fucking really? Your business card? You’re not a professional by any stretch of the imagination, you were crashing an astronomy class at a community college for christ sake. You got those because they were part of some online deal. You never thought they’d ever be needed, and you curse yourself for even giving one away and acknowledging they existed. You’ll never be able to live this down if she contacts you from it.

 You pinch the bridge of your nose.

 And a buzzing sounds.

 With the deepest, stomach curdling fear you’ve felt in weeks, you open your phone notifications.

 “Hi! Making sure I got the right number, this is Karkat right? It was great meeting you!! ‘o’/ “

 You crease your forehead. You don’t want to seem desperate so you wait another few min- who are you trying to kid? You type as fast as you possibly can.

 “Oh, hi! Yeah you got it right, nice meeting you too.”

 You press send, and lean back in the seat, blushing from embarrassment and worry.

 You haven’t been texting much of anyone since the breakup, but typing on the little keyboard will never stop being a useless skill that you honed over the course that relationship. And you fear every message you send to someone uninitiated is just a hair too fast.

 A response comes your way sooner than expected.

 “Oh thank goodness, it’s always weird when you get a typo in the contact!

  So did you find out enough to keep writing?”

 “Yeah, actually. Do you have any morning classes tomorrow? We could meet up and swap each other’s things to read.”

 “I do! I’m out of mine around 10:30, so that sounds like a great plan! :D You?”

 “Yeah, I’m out at 11 for about half an hour, so that works.”

 “Cool! See you then!! :)”

 You remember to breathe, and inhale deeply for the first time in minutes.

 “Yeah, see you.”

 …

 “:)”

  God, what are you doing to yourself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/kepler/news/kepscicon-briefing.html#.VQzpVeGL0rg  
> In case you were wondering about the title.


	3. Galaxias Kyklos

  The keys on your ring jingle against a metal tag from some concert years ago. The lock doesn’t come easy, but it opens just as you’re about to get scared. Which is pretty much always what happens. Breaking the old lock would be a really shitty way to get stuck outside, you think briefly, accompanied by a vision of yourself looking like a supreme dumbass sitting on the bannister for hours waiting for a locksmith or someone with power tools.

 Your bag takes its resting place with a thwump on its usual chair, and shoes are kicked off as you throw yourself onto the couch with a puff.

 The soft sounds of typing float through the door. Sollux is the only one with a real room. Even though all three of you keep your clothes in there, it’s mostly filled with computer shit and outdated technology. He’s got a job for some software company he’s on some kind of NDA with, but it pays the bills, so you stopped trying to wonder months ago. In his (astonishingly frequent) free time you’ll find him fiddling with new gadgets and running closed circuit internet experiments with viruses, and that general brand of nonsense. If he’s sitting down to eat, he’s most likely going to be talking about how he managed to break some piece of hardware with software alone, or how he figured out how to send 80 emails with one virus to spread it, and how he needs another this or that. Serious computer types mystify you.

 You glance briefly through the “bar” window into the kitchen, and notice a new tupperware box of something on the counter.

 Gamzee is probably still playing whatever instrument on a street corner downtown. It’s a tuesday, so you think it might be the saw today with one of his buddies accompanying on guitar. You have no idea where he picked up playing so many instruments, and are even more baffled as to how he remembers how to play all of the songs he does. Not to mention the from-scratch improv baking.

You’re not sure if he’s ever done a google search before in his life. He has all of these skills but you’ll never catch him doing anything particularly ambitious with them. Or at least, he’ll never act like it’s a big deal.

 ...The cookies look like they have multi colored chocolate chips and sprinkles in them.

 The sound that comes from your stomach is not of this earth. You collect some vague sense of a meal and open up your shitty netbook to get back to work on your story. The cold carrot sticks make you feel better about the hot pocket next to them.

 Checking back over it, your work is still a disaster. You honestly still can’t tell if you’re just lying to yourself about not being a hack. All you can do these days is hope and pray that the next publisher will be friendlier. Or maybe that you can finish another book to try again from scratch.

 You slump back in your seat and run a hand through your hair. The door rattles and opens, and Gamzee lopes in with a half-full hat of change, bow and saw in hand.

 “Oh hey man, you’re back from school already?”

 “Dude I don’t have classes today, it’s Tuesday.”  
 “Ohhh right right. Good to know all my guts were right today. Someone looked at me funky and even up and talked at me last week for saying it was a,” he holds his gangly fingers in air quotes for effect, “‘Saying it’s a Wednesday when it was a thursday.’ Dude was plum rude.”

 You tack a period where it should have been in your document, “Well, you have to expect it from those business types downtown.”

 He sets the saw up on its wall hanging with the bow. “Why they gotta be so judgemental about a motherfucker just tryina get his vibes showin through huh? It ain’t like I’m offendin them personally or nothin.”

 “Some people just take offense to shit they don’t find normal I guess.”

 “Yeah...Oh! Bro did you see those cookies I made last night? They came out just perfect I think.”

 You type a correction in, “Mhm, I was actually waiting till you got home. Baker’s first rights and all that.”

 “Aw man you didn’t have to go and wait on me yo, I’da let you have as many as you wanted. Offer’s there now too.”

 The pencil end in your mouth is squishing rather nicely from the stress of chewing on it for close to an hour. It makes your stomach turn. “As much as your cooking is god’s gift to humanity, I’m gonna have to turn you down. Sorry man, maybe later.”

 “Aight, cool bro.”

 You feel like a supreme dick while he fiddles around in the kitchen more, leaving you to type in silence on something you’re pretty sure is going to suck. It eats at your mind at night.

 ...

 You close the lid of your netbook, and join Gamzee in the kitchen to help clean up for another culinary adventure.


	4. M31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make clear: I DO NOT KNOW SOMEONE WHO SUFFERS FROM NARCOLEPSY. I did my best on research and pulling from my own experiences of chronic illness. If someone with more knowledge than me takes issue with anything in this fic or this chapter, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I want this to be the best it can, this fic is a large part of making my own representation too, and I want it to be the best for anyone who suffers from this condition as well.

  Class that day went by so much faster than you would have liked, you really needed more help for English. You’ve been having a hard time with all the wacko vocabulary you need to know about syntax and that general bullshit, but there’s nothing really to be done than keep reading.

 You take the bus too, your condition makes driving not exactly the safest activity. Your medication was working well for you lately, but you don’t want to risk anyone else’s lives or cars.

 Not to mention you never got a license, but that’s just a detail. You never wanted one in the first place.

 You were diagnosed with narcolepsy at about 13 years old.

 Back then, people were a little more understanding of your condition, they let you take naps at school, the whole nine yards. But in recent times, with the thoroughly fucked sideways sleeping schedules of modern college students and overworked adults, you somewhat fade into the background. You are now called lazy, irresponsible, and many other things while you yourself are embarrassed when your, now rare(er), attacks happen. And they do happen, but you’ve been trying for a few months to wrangle your nap and medication schedule as well as possible without as much guidance from your parents.

 You have not been doing too well.

 You have been skipping naps to do homework and finish up what you had missed in class, and it’s kind of been this awful downward spiral. You’re sleeping in class unintentionally, and you have to reign your reactions in more so you don’t cataplexy more often and freak people out. Not to mention how dead. Fucking. Tired. You are all the time. The statistic people throw around is how it takes three whole days of a regular person having no sleep to equal the level of exhaustion of a narcoleptic.

 You hate the fact that the thought of sleep controls your day.

 But at least the rough nights contributed to your favorite hobby: stargazing. Even though the city lights obscure stars to the naked eye, you’re really glad that your grandpa bought you that telescope way back when. It still sits next to the window, even though that window has moved more than a few times.

 You gently set your bag down next to it, pull out your books from it, and set them on your desk. You’ll get to that in a while. You need to sleep.

 Your housemate is never, ever home. You don’t think you’ve seen them in about a week. Frankly you’re worried about them every day before you see the fluctuated state of the dishes.

 It scares you a little bit more when it sets in that if you had an accident, nobody might notice you for hours. In response to this, you try to be constantly texting SOMEONE or doing something that logs you. Pedometers, phone apps, skype, the works. The internet is an incredibly valuable thing for you, and you make it a point to have no less than 5 computers on your person at all times. It gets a little absurd, but you’re pretty sure your suped up pokewalker appreciates the attention.

 You check your wrist-ipod-watch-thing, and a cheery easter egg tells you you’re 20 minutes out from your scheduled midday nap. The groan was a little bit excessive, but the knowledge that you don’t have time to bake something frozen is devastating enough to earn it.

 ----

 Leftovers downed, you shuffle out of your denim skirt into some cutoff shorts and plummet into bed. An hour and a half is good enough to set almost anyone straight. You go through your regular relaxation methods, and sleep finds you more quickly (and voluntarily) than it had as of late.


End file.
